Mike kaBloomberg Goes with a Whimper


This is a "Trident ballistic missile" at one, of, The Men.

And that's Anne Bonny, famous pirate!

---------- Forwarded message ---------
From: Wolf Alexander <congressmanalexander@gmail.com>
Date: Sat, May 31, 2025, 10:32 AM
Subject: Mike kaBloomberg Goes with a Whimper
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A penny for the Old Guy? 

No. He has enough of them. 

SpitfireHunter.com

                              I

You are a hollow man, Mike
You are a stuffed man, Mike
Leaning to the right
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Your dried voice, when 
You whisper alone
Is quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass 
Or pigeons' feet over broken glass
In our dry city

You're a Shape without form, shade without colour. 
A Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

I who have crossed
With direct eyes, to life's other Kingdom
Remember me—always—not only as a winning candidate 
Not only as a Violent soul to them, but As the hollower, of men

                              II

Eyes you won't want to meet in dreams 
In life's dream kingdom 
They will appear:
There, my eyes are 
Firelight on a low wing 
There, from a tree swinging
Is the carcass of the Democratic Party
In the wind's singing 
Closer and more screaming
Than a shooting star.

Let me be no clearer
In life's dream kingdom 
I wear
Such deliberate unforms
Pilot's fighter jacket, sheepskin, converging tracers
In the sky
Behaving as the wind behaves 
So near—

It's that final meeting 
In the daylight kingdom

                              III

This is a living land
This is concrete land
Here the stoned images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of an ex mayor's hand
Under the twinkle of a shooting star.

It is like this
In life's other kingdom
You waking alone
At the hour when they are 
Trembling with tenderness 
Lips that would kiss
Form homelessness to a broken system.

                              IV

Your eyes are not here 
My eyes are here 
In this valley of blossoming stars 
In this green valley of Brooklyn
This marbled jaw of your lost kingdom

In this last of banking places 
You billionaires will grope together 
And not avoid POURING DOWN YOUR WEALTH!
Gathered on the beach of the Hudson River

Sightless, unless 
Your eyes reappear 
As the perpetual Monopoly Man
Multifoliate jackass
Of life's daylight kingdom 
The hope only 
Of empty men.

                              V

Here you go round the prickly peach
Prickly peach prickly peach 
Here you go round the prickly peach
At nine o'clock in the morning.

Between the idea 
And the reality 
Between the motion 
And the act 
Falls Your Shadow

                                  For Mine is the 10th District

Between conception 
And abortion
Between emotion 
And response 
Falls my Shadow

                                  Life is very fun

Between my desire 
And my victory
Between your impotency 
And your existence 
Between their essence 
And their wealth
Falls our Shadow

                                  For Mine is the 10th District

For Mine is 
Life is
For Ours is the

This is the way your fortune ends 
This is the way their world ends 
This is the way the billionaires will pay
Not with a bang but a whimper.

"Give me back my money! Please!"

*****

---Congressman Wolf Alexander (i) NY-10

*****

P.S. And you should know Mike. I drink Big Gulps.

-Alex

*****

P.P.S. Will I see you at the Vanity Fair Party after the Correspondents' Dinner in 2027?

--Wolf Alexander

*****

P.P.P.S. All of you his slaves. When you work for someone you are their slave are you not? 

Come sail for me instead!

----Captain of the "Anne Bonny", pirate against The Super Rich